


Executive Functioning for Hire

by Anonymous



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Reader Insert, Reader Insert, Sub!Malcolm Bright, dom!reader, elements of d/s, gender neutral reader, mild impact play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24741964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Malcolm needs to get his shit together. Edrisa has the perfect person in mind for the job.
Relationships: Edrisa Tanaka/Reader, Malcolm Bright/Edrisa Tanaka, Malcolm Bright/Reader, Malcolm Bright/Reader/Edrisa Tanaka
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38
Collections: Anonymous





	Executive Functioning for Hire

“Let me get this straight.” You closed the cover of the book you’d been reading in order to really focus on your roommate. “You think I, your roommate and a professional sex worker, should go dom Malcolm Bright, the coworker you are _totally_ in love with, and...what? Help him get his shit together?” 

Edrisa nodded enthusiastically, practically vibrating on the other end of the couch. “I just thought, you know, who better to get him to take care of himself than someone hot he can submit to? He’s _totally_ a sub, you can see it in his eyes.”

Damn Edrisa. Calling you hot was a good way to get you to do what she wanted. 

Then again, _anything_ was a good way to get you to do what she wanted. You and Edrisa had met junior year of undergrad, roommates in the university’s “Gender Open Housing” experiment, and you’d been best friends and roommates ever since. You’d also, not really coincidentally, been in love with her ever since, and you had supported her through years of med school and life events and pretty much everything else. 

But even with your multi-year crush on Edrisa, this was still a pretty big ask.

“Have you even remotely brought this up with him?” you asked, sighing. 

Edrisa blanched. “Well, I wanted to make sure you were okay with it first…” She gnawed on her lip. “And I was kind of hoping you’d do the proposing…”

You snorted. “Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Edrisa Tanaka, if you want me to do this, you are handing Malcolm Bright my business card and explaining this plan of yours to him yourself. I’ll do it if he wants, but this was _your_ idea, Risa, so you do the leg work.”

She spluttered. “But it’s - he’s my coworker! That would be unprofessional!”

“You probably should’ve considered that part first, babe.” You opened your book back up. “I’ll dom your crush into getting his shit together if he wants,” you repeated, “but _you’re_ setting it up.”

\---

You didn’t actually expect her to do it. And even if she did, you didn’t expect him to take her up on it.

The work phone rang three times before you picked it up, on a call from an unknown number, which meant they weren’t one of your usual clients.

“Hi. Monarch?” The voice on the other end of the line was somewhat hesitant, but there was a manic, living energy to it that had you guessing already who it was. You hadn’t thought to remind Edrisa to give your professional name, but luckily, she’d done that on her own.

“That’s me.” You paused, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s...Malcolm. Malcolm Bright. Um. Doctor - Edrisa Tanaka recommended your services.”

Based on every story you’d heard about Malcolm Bright, from “jumping out a window to escape a landmine” to the Incident involving the Sword of Damocles, you’d never have pegged him for the sort of nervousness he was showing. It was cute, actually. 

You could see why Edrisa liked him, but not necessarily why she was intimidated by him.

“Alright. And you’re aware of what I do?”

“You’re a professional dom.”

“But not for sex,” you pointed out. Some people did it, but that wasn’t your particular field. “So if that’s what you’re after -”

“It’s not,” he cut in quickly. “Edrisa said - she said you were good at encouraging executive functioning. Setting bedtime, cleaning schedule. And she strongly suggested you, and I thought...well, why not?” He gave a rueful laugh. “Seemed as good a place as any to start trying to get my life on track.”

You nodded. “Okay. Coffee to discuss the arrangement?”

“There’s a tea shop on the corner of Ashton -”

“That works too.” You smiled. So Malcolm Bright liked tea. If nothing else, you’d have a ton of personal details to tease Edrisa about. “Tomorrow, eight-thirty a.m.?”

“Sounds great.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I look forward to meeting you.” Finally, a little bit of that fabled charm. 

You looked forward to it, too.

\---

When you told Malcolm your hourly fee, he laughed and doubled it. You hadn’t expected that. You also hadn’t expected to get one meal a day out of the arrangement, but it’d been a week, and you’d eaten dinner with Malcolm every evening. Even the one time he left the precinct at 8:30. 

Today, though, you were putting your foot down. 

“We cannot keep eating takeout.”

Malcolm had this adorable pout that you were pretty sure worked on everyone else - you knew it worked on Edrisa, at least - but you were good at your job. 

You shook your head, taking the menu out of his hands. “Nope. Sorry, Pet. You’re going to cook for me tonight.”

“But - I can’t -” A little bit of panic flared in his eyes. 

“Shhh.” You put on your best soothing voice. “I’ll tell you what to do, alright? Every step. You don’t have to do any thinking at all, you just need to serve me.”

His shoulders eased at that, and he swallowed. “Yes, Monarch.”

“Good boy.” You traced your fingers down his jaw, getting a shiver for your troubles. “Now. What vegetables are in your fridge?”

You guided him through a pasta dish with some diced green peppers and canned tomatoes. Impossible to fuck up, really. He didn’t have anything in the house that upset his stomach - he swore this to you after you fixed him with a glare, cuz Edrisa had mentioned the whole Disordered Eating bit - so you were confident dinner would be a success.

The two of you ate next to each other on the bar-counter-thing. You added “Make Malcolm buy a table” to your list of life improvements. 

“This is delicious, Pet,” you praised. “You did a very good job.”

By all accounts, Malcolm Bright had quite the ego. But you got to see him after hours, and you knew his self-esteem could use a little shoring up. Honestly, the confident, smooth man Edrisa fawned over was never the man you got to see. With you, Malcolm was simply your Pet, and he wanted nothing more.

He glowed. “Thank you, Monarch.”

It made you warm, in turn, to see him glow. He was quite loyal and obedient, and you’d very quickly become fond of Malcolm Bright. 

After dinner was a walk in the park. One of the rules of your arrangement was that Malcolm had to spend at least half an hour outside every day, separate from work, to relax and get some sunlight and calm. He always asked you to come with him, so you did.

He would’ve let you leash him; as it stood, you walked with your hand on the small of his back, a proprietary gesture you enjoyed perhaps a little more than you should’ve. He always wore those suits that were too nice to just walk around the park, but you could tell that they functioned as his armor, so you didn’t comment. Let him dress how he wanted.

He had ten rules in all, ranging from eating three meals at specified times to going outside to a proper bedtime. In spite of his sleep issues, he liked the bedtime most.

You could always see him visibly relax, tension draining away as you fastened each restraint over his arm. “Remember,” you said, same as every night, “bedtime is to take care of you. It shouldn’t make you anxious. We’re just taking care of my Pet as best we can.”

You had a key to his apartment now. You thought that was kind of stupid of him, especially after just a week, but you were also oddly flattered. He liked you to stay until he dozed - he swore he couldn’t fall asleep unless you were there - so you sat on the side of his bed and you pet his hair and whispered soothing things. It was intimate. It did things to your heart that you didn’t want to think too hard about. Then, when he fell asleep, you quietly let yourself out of his apartment, locked up, and went home. 

Edrisa had been right. This was a good gig.

\---

“You’re (Y/n), right?” Malcolm was looking at you with big, inquisitive eyes that you were pretty sure were the same ones he had when he was solving a homicide.

You were going to kill Edrisa. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I can tell when you’re lying. You’re her roommate.” He held up his hands placatingly. You were glad this conversation was happening in his apartment so no one could hear, and so you could leave if you wanted. 

If you decided things needed to end. 

“You’re still Monarch, but...she talks about her roommate all the time, and I realized it’s you.” He offered a crooked grin. “I just - I think that’s cool.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is why I don’t dom profilers.”

“Do you get many requests?” 

“I dunno, Pet, why don’t you figure it out?” You fixed him with a leveled gaze. “Risa warned me you were a brat.”

“Did she?” 

“Not in so many words, but I knew.” You took an authoritative step into his space, slow and deliberate. He shrank back, not intimidated but deferential. “I recommend you remember who’s in charge, here.”

“You, of course, Monarch.” It slid easily off his tongue, and in his eyes you saw he believed what he was saying, no matter how insolent he liked to be. You relaxed slightly.

You put your hand on his shoulder and pushed him to kneel at your feet, then tangled your fingers in his hair. “Good boy.”

He melted. A very unprofessional part of you melted with him, and you swallowed.

“And you will not mention this information to anyone,” you commanded, keeping your tone even. 

“Yes, Monarch.”

“You won’t even talk about it with Edrisa at work.”

“No, Monarch.” 

“Good boy. Now, have you done your daily meditation?”

Some of the rules were just making Malcolm actually do things his therapist recommended. Especially this, because Malcolm Bright absolutely hated being alone with his thoughts, and he would only do the meditation under your watchful eye. 

Sometimes, not even then.

“Pet.” You fixed him with a glare. “Sit. Do your meditation.”

This was a rule that did not have a fun consequence - you’d learned almost immediately Malcolm liked to break those, so you adjusted accordingly. The consequence was that you wouldn’t talk to him until he’d done it. 

He sighed and pouted. He had no right to be that cute when he pouted. “Fine.”

He made it ten minutes before he popped his eyes open. “She’s in love with you, you know.”

You groaned. “I will tie you up and leave you by yourself,” you threatened.

“You know I could get out of it,” he replied cheekily. “Come on.”

“Edrisa is not in love with me.” You’d know by now. You’d have gotten together a long time ago if there was any sort of chance. 

You weren’t particularly subtle. 

“She is. She never shuts up about you.”

“Cuz we’ve been friends for years.” You snorted. “Bright, she’s in love with _you_.” It didn’t feel like a betrayal to say so, because if you weren’t subtle, then Edrisa was screaming from the rooftops. You’d guarantee everyone at work _and_ the coffee shop by the morgue knew she had feelings for Malcolm.

And then, the man you considered a genius did something unbelievably stupid. He shook his head and he said, “No, she’s not.”

“Bright.”

“She’s not! It’s more of a hero-worship thing. And I’m the only one at the precinct who laughs at her jokes and understands her.” His eyes got all soft when he thought about her, and you realized Edrisa was pretty damn lucky. “We make a good team.”

It didn’t take a profiler to figure out Malcolm had some sort of feelings for her, too. 

“You do. And that’s why you’re going to take her to dinner on Friday,” you decided.

He blanched. “What?” 

“You want me to get your life on track. Part of that is helping you reach out and make the connections you want to make. Ah!” You held up a finger as he opened his mouth. “Who’s in charge?”

“You are, Monarch,” he replied dutifully. “But - I can’t.”

“Just go as friends,” you suggested. “It doesn’t have to be romantic.” In truth, maybe it shouldn’t be - in spite of the bold explanation you’d offered, you weren’t sure if this was overstepping. 

“It won’t be, because she’s in love with you,” he mumbled. 

You caught him with a backhand, but it was the kind that made him smile dopily afterwards. “I heard that, Pet.” It put you back in comfortable, familiar territory.

“Yes, Monarch.”

\---

You were still awake and sitting on the couch when Edrisa got home. You hadn’t exactly intended to wait up for her, but you were here now.

“I can’t believe you dommed Malcolm into taking me out for dinner.” She tucked her coat up on the rack by the door and slipped her boots off under it.

“He needs friends!” you defended. “I told him to have an outing with a friend.”

“You told him, specifically, to take me to dinner tonight.”

“Okay, yes, because he responds better to specific directives.” You rolled your eyes. “Did you have a good time?” 

“Yes.” When she turned around, she was flushed - probably a little wine drunk - and grinning. “He made sure I knew he wanted to be there, that he wasn’t just there because you’d ordered him into it. So I’m not mad.”

“Good.” You grinned and patted the couch next to you. “C’mere, tell me all about it. What did you talk about?”

“Work.” She came and sat down beside you, then put her head in your lap. “Famous Serial Killers. Mid-Eighteenth Century composers. You.”

You tensed at the last one; you’d threaded your fingers through her hair and you were pretty sure you were now pulling just a bit. “Me?”

“Don’t panic. Not Monarch, you.” She smiled up at you dopily, glasses askew. “He wanted to know what you’re like when you’re not domming him into taking his meds.”

“What did you tell him?” you asked, curious. 

“That you’re perfect.” She grinned, and now it was you who was blushing. “That you’re domming _me_ into taking my meds and going to bed on time.”

You shook your head. “Risa,” you teased, “now he’s gonna be mad you get the same services for free.”

“It’s not for free! I pay more of the rent in exchange for you taking care of me. It’s written in our contract.” She looked up at you with big, serious eyes.

The contract in question was a handwritten and frequently amended roommate agreement you two had drafted when sharing a dorm. It’d followed you to new places and evolved as you did. 

You respected and enjoyed it, but Edrisa considered the contract sacred. You were also the only person in the world who she would submit to, which felt pretty damn good.

“You’re right.” You resumed petting her hair. 

“He asked a lot about you. I think he likes you. You know, like-likes you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Risa, he’s a client.” Your heart was not skipping. It was not. 

“You’re at least kind of friends, though. You have to be, to have that kind of rapport in your relationship.” She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, reaching out to stroke your cheek. “It makes perfect sense that he’d develop a crush on you. You’re...perfect.”

You snorted, flushed. “Alright, up we go. You’re drunk.” You gently shifted her into a sitting position. 

“I can be drunk _and_ right, you know,” she protested, leaning against you. “In fact, I often am. Especially on game night.” She scrunched up her nose. “When is the next game night?” 

“Next Friday.” You gently shuffled her to the bathroom. “And I will ban you from drinking if you don’t get your shit together.”

She looked at you mutinously. “I freely choose to obey you,” she reminded you. “I’m not your sub like Malcolm. I could stop at any time.”

“But you won’t,” you replied sweetly. 

She nodded, conceding the point, and managed to brush her own teeth, still leaning against you.

“Water,” you advised, steering her towards the kitchen. You wondered how much wine they’d had - Edrisa was a lightweight, sure, but this was kind of ridiculous for a bottle of Chardonnay. Or whatever the hell Bright would order. “Risa, what did you _drink_?”

“Oh, I took him to CJ’s after dinner because I wanted one of their milkshakes!”

...Ah. CJ’s. Home of the most ridiculously alcoholic beverages and desserts around. That explained it. You wondered if Bright was equally as drunk, smiling just a little at the thought of both of them being silly like this. 

You couldn’t help it, you were a caretaker. 

Edrisa finished her glass of water, then patted your arm. “I’m sleepy,” she announced. “I’m going to bed.”

She wasn’t asking for your help, but you gave it anyway, and then you tucked her in and kissed her forehead for good measure. 

She grabbed your hand. “Hey. You’re the best,” she said earnestly.

It made you warm. “Thanks, Risa.” You closed her door gently.

A phone was ringing somewhere, but the one in your pocket wasn’t, which meant it was your work phone. Kind of an absurd hour, all things considered, and you were probably gonna yell at whatever client was this inconsiderate. 

Except you didn’t, because it was Malcolm, and he opened with, “Sorry, this is the only number I have. Is Edrisa okay?”

You smiled in spite of yourself. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good.” He exhaled in relief. “I walked her right to the door but -” He paused awkwardly. “I know she’s not that drunk, really, because she nailed every trivia question I tested her with, and she walked in a straight enough line…”

“You were just worried about her,” you finished. “Because you care.”

He relaxed, hearing no judgment in your tone. “Yeah.”

“Also because you have only a handful of friends and PTSD, so you worry.” Your lips curled into a fond, knowing smile.

He let out a gasping laugh at your blunt accuracy. “Yeah.”

“I’ve got her, Pet.” He hummed at his title, and your heart gave a very unprofessional flutter. These unprofessional flutters were getting harder to ignore. “Promise.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks.” He exhaled again. “Good night, Monarch.”

“You’re twelve minutes to bedtime, Pet,” you reminded. “Good night to you too.”

\---

Malcolm had come home from work bleeding. To bleed was not atypical, but usually “to bleed” was in the past tense. Even with your strongest dom voice, he refused to go to the hospital, so you did the only thing you could think of. 

You called Edrisa.

“I don’t work on living humans,” she protested as you led her into the apartment. 

“Yeah, well, it’s Malcolm. I think you can make an exception.”

“That’s even worse!”

You snorted. “Relax, Risa. If you hurt him while you’re patching him up, he’ll probably just moan.”

Her cheeks flushed and she squeaked in protest. 

“Hey, Edrisa!” Malcolm called from the kitchen. That was not where you’d left him, and you could see a tiny trail of blood on his hardwood. 

“Pet, what are you doing?” you demanded. 

“Oh, I figured I’d make sure there was coffee when Edrisa got here, since it’s late.”

You exhaled sharply. “For fuck’s sake.” You looked at her. “You did not tell me he would be this much trouble.”

“I didn’t realize!” Edrisa protested. 

Malcolm snorted. “You should have. I’ve never been anything but up front about myself.”

“Okay, now that part’s a lie, Mr. Years of Unresolved Childhood Trauma.” You put your hand on the back of his neck and steered him over to a chair, then forced him down. “Now sit still.”

“I can’t, I’m bleeding from my side.”

“For fuck’s sake!” you snapped again. Malcolm went to move, but you smacked his hand. “Stay _still_.” You didn’t necessarily intend to use your dom voice but it jumped out anyway. 

Malcolm’s eyes widened and he swallowed thickly, but he nodded. You made quick work of his shirt - yes, you ripped a couple buttons off, but it was bloody and the man had tons anyway - and then stepped out of the way to let Edrisa look at a very nasty, oozing gash in his side. 

She hissed. “Bright, what happened?” she asked as she started to dab antiseptic on it.

“I got stabbed. It’s not a big deal.” He shrugged and didn’t even wince at the alcohol on his open wound.

“Yes! Yes, it is a big deal.” You raked a hand through your hair. “Oh my god.”

Edrisa stood up to look at you. “Well, the good news is it didn’t hit anything vital, the injury is just flesh and slight muscle laceration.”

“See, I’m fine.”

“The bad news is he’s an idiot,” you replied. “So that means I don’t have justification to drag his ass to the hospital.”

She chewed her lip. “I mean, he does need stitches.”

You rolled your eyes, already anticipating what was coming. “You can do my stitches, Risa,” he suggested. 

Bingo.

“Bright, I stitch up dead bodies!” she spluttered. 

He waved a hand, wheezing slightly and wincing. He was starting to crack his veneer of “perfectly fine.” He opened his mouth, groaned through gritted teeth, opened it again, and said, “They don’t need to be pretty, they just need to hold the skin closed.”

Edrisa was frowning, but she set about stitching him up, eight thick, precise autopsy stitches. They were closer together than she was used to, and she looked positively green by the end of it.

“There’s vodka in the fridge,” you suggested. “Or gin, he has good gin.”

She nodded and hurried off to get herself a drink. You could see her hands shaking as she left and you sighed. 

“Malcolm,” you said softly, tiredly. This was not how you’d expected the night to go.

“You know,” he attempted. “It was pretty hot when you tore my shirt off.” He gave you a lopsided smile. 

You dabbed more alcohol against his wound and got a gratifying hiss. “That’s not a funny joke.”

“It’s not a joke.”

“Yeah, well, in that case, I’m sure Edrisa stabbing you with a needle was even more arousing,” you deadpanned, wadding up the cloth. When he didn’t answer, you looked up to see his blushing face. “...Did you?”

“No,” he mumbled. “But she’d make a good needle top.” His fingers fluttered, weaving between each other in patterns you couldn’t make sense of.

“You’d have to convince her to do work on living humans more often, but I’m sure if you asked, she would.” You shrugged. “She’d do a lot for you.”

“And you, evidenced by the fact it’s three am.”

“I still think that has more to do with the fact it was you bleeding.” You shook your head. “You’re lucky I stuck around.”

“Why did you?”

“I was worried about you, Bright!” You didn’t want to express the terror you’d felt as the hours slipped later and he still wasn’t home, and he wouldn’t answer your calls, either; the way you’d fallen asleep with your head on his pillow, breathing in the smell of him and feeling calm for the first time since you’d arrived at 8, when he’d told you to come over because he “might be a little late” and you had dutifully shown up.

“I’m fine,” he said again. You didn’t find it any more convincing than before. “I swear.”

“Lying to your Monarch is bad behavior,” Edrisa pointed out, hands around a glass of what looked like gin and tonic. “Also, you’re not as good of a liar as you think you are, anyway.” She sipped it pointedly.

Edrisa had her own dom voice on, which surprised you. You hadn’t realized she could talk to him that way. Bright, though - his jaw dropped.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled. “Sorry, Edrisa. Sorry, Monarch.”

She nodded and took another sip. “Good, because I don’t think either of us particularly want to punish you when you’re injured.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Malcolm whined.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna leave you two to that, then.” You pushed yourself off the table, flushing and trying not to think about the both of them and what kind of punishments Edrisa could dream up. 

“Wait,” Malcolm protested. “You could - Please stay.”

You snorted. “I’m not that kind of dom, Bright. Risa is, though.”

“I don’t care,” he said, voice low and desperate. “That’s not what I want. I want -”

At his abrupt pause, you threaded your fingers through his hair. “What do you want, Pet?” you asked softly.

“You.” He glanced between you and Edrisa. “Both of you. I’m not - I get it, I’m just a client to you, but - Edrisa - I have never felt safer than when I’m with you,” he finally managed to spit out. “Either of you. Both of you. I don’t want you to go.” His voice dropped. “ _Please_.”

Edrisa had lost a bit of her swagger at that, face red. “Bright, I - I love you,” she blurted out. “Oh, oh no, oh dear, I’m sorry, I -”

“Told you.” You poked Malcolm in the shoulder. “If you want to kiss her, now’s the time.” 

He reached out and caught her hand, yanking her closer, and she stumbled into his lap and he caught her and you caught her drink and it was messy and enthusiastic and beautiful. And you were undeniably in love with both of them. 

Edrisa pulled back, beaming, and stroked a finger over Malcolm’s jaw. “I think you might be more than just a client,” she teased, glancing back at your blushing face. “Lucky for you, hm?” 

His gaze was nothing short of awestruck. 

“I can’t,” you protested. There was surely a professional line; _Pretty Women_ notwithstanding, you weren’t supposed to fall in love with clients. 

But you wanted to. 

“You can,” Edrisa shot back. “You’re the one in charge here.”

“That’s why I can’t.”

Edrisa took Malcolm’s face in her hands. She was still awkwardly half in his lap. “Do you freely consent?” 

He nodded. “But only if (Y/n) kisses you too,” he managed.

Edrisa’s brow creased. “Me?”

You hid your face in your hands. “Bright, I swear to god.”

“Our dom here has some feelings for you,” Malcolm teased, some of the original mischief returning to his voice. That wouldn’t do at all, and you fixed him with a glare that had him melting right back into anticipation.

Edrisa looked at you. “Is it true?” You nodded. “Why did you never say anything?”

“I didn’t wanna make it weird,” you mumbled.

She snorted. “We have a signed contract that you’re allowed to set my bedtime, it was already weird. Oh my god.” And then she launched herself at you, arms around your neck, lips finding yours messily and enthusiastically. “You could’ve saved me years of angst,” she panted, still holding you.

“I mean, same,” you pointed out. 

“I thought I was obvious.”

“So did I!”

Malcolm whined, looking forlorn at the loss of attention. Edrisa nudged you. “Go kiss him.”

You knelt in front of him in the chair and cupped his face. “Can I, Pet?” He nodded enthusiastically and melted into your kiss, surrendering himself over to you completely. You liked it quite a bit. 

“I won’t do it again,” he breathed, gesturing at his side. “I’m sorry, Monarch.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you replied. “And I guess if we’re doing this, you can call me (Y/n).”

“(Y/n).” He said your name like it was holy, and Edrisa grinned. He yawned. “Will you still tuck me in?”

You nodded. “Of course, Pet.” You and Edrisa helped him over to his bed - you let Edrisa fasten the restraints and tried not to laugh at the dark look in her eyes. There would be time for that later. 

In the end, you couldn’t be mad that she’d told him to call you. Not at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this inspired by the fact I have acquired three subs for whom I enforce bedtimes? Yeah. I was like "Oh hey, Malcolm would benefit from that." Plus I love all the dommey Edrisa content y'all have put out there and thus, this whole fic was born.  
> I mean, who hasn't dreamed about gently ordering Malcolm to take care of himself?  
> Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed!


End file.
